


Third from the right

by Flexor



Category: RWBY
Genre: Books, Smouldering looks, White Fang, mooks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4941592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flexor/pseuds/Flexor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake tries to have some quiet time with a good book, but is disturbed by the White Fang. Luckily it's not as bad as it could have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third from the right

**Author's Note:**

> I always feel a bit for the mooks. The foot soldiers. The trash mobs. The gang. The anonymous fighters whose sole purpose in life is to get killed by the heroes in quite gruesome ways sometimes. So here's an attempt to blow some more life into at least one of them.
> 
> Oh. The hidden treasures. This is Blake we're talking about here, so it's books. We all read the occasional bit of trash, but can you spot the other books?

There were times when a girl had to take herself away from it all. Yang had been so right when she'd told Blake to pace herself when thwarting the wiles of Evil. They all had their own way. Ruby carefully planned a whole day of activities, specially designed to provide the perfect mix of relaxation, fun, natural beauty, team bonding, and good conversation. Then, she'd throw the whole plan out of the window and start the food fight to end all food fights. Weiss had her singing. While Weiss' classical repertoire wasn't exactly Blake's cup of tea, she had to admit that she had a wonderful singing voice. Yang for her part fired up her bright yellow motorcycle and earnestly tried to kill herself on Vale's dark forest roads.

For Blake, there was only one way. Books. Old books. New books. Sharing the minds of writers across the centuries, thinking the thoughts they had thought so long ago, blooming up in Blake's imagination. Beacon had a very large library. Most of the books there, of course, were science books. Engineering. Chemistry. But Blake's favorites were the mythological novels. Tales of when the Gods took Faunal or Human form, and came into the world to toy with the fate of the unsuspecting people. Comfortably old myths that nobody believed in anymore, but still had their underlying wisdom to give. Blake was half way through an old myth about a princess who was married to a king who would have a new wife every day, only to have her killed after the wedding night. To save her life, the princess told the king story after story, always starting a new one before going to sleep, so the king would have to let her live if he wanted to know the end. Blake was wondering how the story would end. Maybe the king would die of old age before she ran out. The princess was an unending source of stories, and she knew exactly what kind of story the old king would like. They were all in the book, and some of them were quite... stirring. Blake couldn't read it in the original language, but the translation was pretty good.

Blake walked into the garden. The best spot to read was just on the other side of the wall, out of sight, out of mind. She found some shade under a tree, sat down on a rolled-up blanket, propped her weapon up against the tree within easy reach, because you never knew. She opened her book at the bookmark, and took to the sky carried by a giant bird.

 

There was the tiniest of noises in front of Blake, and she looked up. In front of her, squatting down on his feet, was a man in a uniform Blake had never worn, but recognised instantly. The black and white of the White Fang. His face was hidden by the Grimm mask the White Fang had adopted when they turned from a peaceful protest organisation into a terrorist group. In a flash, Blake dropped her book and went for her weapon.

"Wait! I'm not here to fight you."

Blake looked at him. He didn't have a weapon in his hand. The White Fang had guns. If he'd really wanted, he could have turned her into a sieve before now. Blake got to her feet slowly, her weapon lowered, as the White Fang did the same. Then, he bent down, picked up Blake's book, wiped the dirt off and gave it to her.

"Sorry for making you lose your place."

"I'll find it back. What do you want?"

"You're Blake Belladonna."

"Yes."

"Traitor to the White Fang." The way he said it seemed more sad than accusing.

Blake sneered. "I didn't betray the White Fang I joined."

"You are right. Before you betrayed them, the White Fang betrayed itself. I was proud to be a member. It was so wonderfully simple. Us against the humans. Against anyone who would harm us. I don't know exactly what happened to us. I know some, but not all."

"You want to defect?"

The man shook his head. Blake could see his eyes gleaming behind the slits in his mask.

"I want the White Fang to return to what it was. To defend our people from harm, not attack defenceless shopkeepers and merchants. Not steal like common thieves, to make some _human_ rich and powerful."

Blake nodded. "So," she said. "What _do_ you want from me?"

The man sighed, looked away for a moment. Then, he raised his hands. Blake's hand tightened on her weapon, but he only unsnapped his mask and took it off. He pushed back his hood and revealed a scraggly head of blonde hair and eyes light brown like Blake's. Thick black furry ears were on his head.

"I was at the last rally when that cockroach Torchwick showed us the toys he had for us. Everyone was cheering him. It made me sick." He smiled. "I saw you, too. And that monkey boy you were with. Please tell me he's not your boyfriend. You can do a lot better."

"He's not and mind your own business."

"Heh. I was also on that damned train when Torchwick blew it up piece by piece and then ran it into town. I was lucky to get out. Three of my mates ended up smashed to pieces and Ursa food. I feel Mr. Roman Torchwick does not have our best interests at heart."

"I kicked him in the head," said Blake. "For what it's worth."

"Good."

"So. At the risk of repeating myself. What do you want with me?"

"I don't know exactly what is going on with the White Fang, the humans. That red woman who seems to have Torchwick under her thumb. Just _why_ everyone is so eager to do what they're saying." His jaw set. "But I am going to find out. And when I do, I'll need someone to talk to on your side. Maybe I can make the vermin fight it out among themselves."

"And I'm the lucky girl."

"And you're the lucky girl."

"Why me? There's other faunals. You could even try a Human."

" _You_ are a good looking feline. _Humans_ are the people who put us on that island named Menagerie. You know what a menagerie is, don't you?"

"Of course." Blake looked at the Faunal in front of her. "What's your name?"

"I don't have one anymore."

"That's very dramatic, but I'll need something to call you."

"Well, in that case, you can call me Tertius ab Dexteram."

"Tertius..." Blake blinked. "Third from the right. Really."

'Tertius' laughed. "Bookworm. I should have thought of something more obscure."

"Bring it, tiger boy. The reference I can't catch has yet to be written."

"Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened..."

Blake smiled smugly. "But go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm. Unlucky that. I was just reading that book."

"Hmm..." Tertius considered a moment. "If you would not taste the bitter coldness of steel, you must taste the sweet taste of love."

Blake's face would have put Weiss' coldest expression to shame. Love Ninjas, The Valley of the Little Death. If you took her copy from behind all the other books, and dropped it on the floor, it would probably fall open on that page. The imagery was quite... lively.

"Got me there. Haven't a clue."

Tertius and Blake looked into each other's eyes a moment. Blake didn't budge.

"Speaking of thunderstorms and death valleys, we have something ambitious planned this Friday. I suggest you call in sick. We're pulling out the big guns."

Blake shook her head. "And leave my friends to face the trouble alone? You know I can't do that."

Tertius moved a bit closer. He slowly moved his hand up to Blake's hair and pulled off her bow. He gently hung it round her neck, then ran a finger along the soft fur of her ear. Blake was a bit surprised that she let him do that. He looked deep into her eyes.

"Yes, I know. But the world is a much better place with you in it."

"If you try to kiss me, I will rip out your throat," said Blake, deadly calm.

"What a way to go," said Tertius. "But I can't afford dying just yet. I have things to find out." He pulled up his hood, put on his Grimm mask.

"How do I avoid killing you?" said Blake.

"You don't," said Tertius, all his flirtatious manner gone in a flash. "Strike hard. I will. I have some scores to settle with the Huntsmen. But should we both survive, you'll hear from me when I find out more. Until then..."

With a sudden quick motion, Tertius tapped Blake's forehead with his fingers, distracting her. When she could see straight again, Tertius was nowhere to be seen. Blake looked around, up in the tree. She crossed her arms.

"He really believed I _would_ rip his throat out," she said, to nobody.

She picked up her blanket and shook it out. Blake turned round to walk back to the Academy. She looked over her shoulder once. Nothing.

"Stupid boy."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fireproofing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13006977) by [Liara_90](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liara_90/pseuds/Liara_90)




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